Tag: love

Kicking a habit is easy, all you need is motivation. But, with the detox comes a cocktail of emotions. With this post, I’m going to share with you readers, where I am at.

The love that every often seems a grasp away, is yet a grasp away. And, with some weird luck, I’m passing off as a non-anxiety ridden person. No thanks to drugs and all hail ‘el musica’. For its been quite some time, that I’ve quit the ‘anxiety pills’. If I’m right, it did more harm than good.

But, one look at the mirror, I’m happy. Tired truly from the work, ready to hit the hay. A lesson learned, from the loss of a gig. A high profile gig, turned sour. Thanks to many, especially that one girl who is all cute and smiley – but when it comes to work she is a tortoise, in a rat race.

How did I mess up?

To be frank, I fucked up the opportunity. Wasn’t prepared to handle the workload. And, all thanks to her no one to guide or coach me through. Damn you gal!!!

It’s just making me Hulky!

I made wrong choices, one of which was self-delusion and medication. Upping the dosage reversed the reaction. Anxiety returned like a monster, in the pretence of a self-confident – walking tall bloke.

If it were no more regrets

They say, regrets don’t matter. But, let me break it open when I’m sober. Rushing up, without proper gear and army – doomed to die be it Cap America or Bruce the Lee. And, who was I?

One strong one weak?

Speaking in the local language, and occupied in the rat race – I have become distant with English. No time to read, the half finished Paulo Coelho still staring me silly! I take a look at my words, are they mine? Is this my style? Has it been corrupted from other formats. In the name of SEO, traction and other BS?

Nothing more to complain, there I’ve written more than 300 words, that’s ought to satisfy the bots. Damn scrawlers spoiling my ramblings. Nazis ruining my thought flow with rules.

I hate dreams. I hate it’s imposing truth. The verisimilitudeness. I hate it how it scrounges all my inner desire and disturbs the illusory calm that I ever try to obtain.

What has happened?

Well she has aged for once. So was I. And, this time she has really matured. How can I tell? She confounded in me. Her love for me the very first time in the most serene and surreal moments of all my dreams.

Does it suffice to have a vicarious love story that’s spun by my subconscious?

Like Nolan ask I – ‘who are you to say which is which?’

For even dreams have the hiccups of reality. I couldn’t take her on a ride. As we strolled together the corridors of our school. My heart didn’t race, my legs didn’t tremble. Somehow I knew we belong together. Yet, I was a little ill prepared to handle it so cool. On the way to seek her friend some help, we separated. Only to reunite moments later, her warm scolding embrace. This very scene I’m trying expound has been on my mind ever since I have laid eyes on her. A man is lucky to have a women who hurts with love.

She has taken her time to choose. I don’t blame her for hesitating the first time around. If not for her doubt. If not for the pain that we endured. We mustn’t have come to such a place of strength and inner peace.

Now I tremble, for she lives in these very words and I mustn’t take her for granted. I’m gladder still, for she shows up rarely – in this blog and even in my mind. But her presence is felt, the essence of her sublime demeanor.